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The Bitter Pill

SoulWeaver

SoulWeaver

Woot
Joined
Dec 16, 2010
Posts
1,511
The Bitter Pill ....... crazed musings, drunken ramblings and extracted confessions

In a dim corner of the docks,
Down a dark, twisting street hemmed in with overhanging and dilapidated housing,
There's a stygian, half hidden alleyway,
Which leads to a disreputable bar, itself a front for glutenous thoughts and obsidian deeds.



http://s3.postimage.org/ckc8of0tm/TBP_Alley2.jpg


http://s3.postimage.org/xu087k92i/The_Bitter_Pill.jpg


Welcome to the The Bitter Pill.

"Theres no fun to be had here," a hypnotic voice whispers into your ear, "So don't come a lookin' for Babylon."






Dare you cross the salted doorway?
Is it to keep things out . . . or lock them inside . . . ​








.
 
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Ye Old Bitter Pill

http://s3.postimage.org/g3yq8o9h0/Ye_Ole_Bitter_Pill.jpg

Ye Olde Bitter Pill was a sodded and debauched den.
I suspect not much has changed, except the alcohol is more expensive and the .... more unsavoury activities, are now conducted behind closed doors. Anyway there's only one thing cooler than pirates, and that's pirate girls.​


http://s4.postimage.org/98nmxqnnh/tbp_pg01.jpghttp://s4.postimage.org/jvhhqp8al/tbp_pg02.jpg

http://s4.postimage.org/qypetuq7x/tbp_pg03.jpghttp://s4.postimage.org/5p1u6jmfb/tbp_pg04.jpg

http://s4.postimage.org/cs9r9p4cn/tbp_pg05.jpghttp://s4.postimage.org/jvhocum9z/tbp_pg06.jpg




​
 
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The Carpark

http://s3.postimage.org/90qy44t1a/TBP_carpark.jpg
Under the Pill is an underground car-park (of course there is you're thinking).
In it reside various conveyance's that ... interest me.







V8 Interceptors and a Police Pursuit-Special. Australian steel full of post apocalyptic valour ....
http://s4.postimage.org/nf5q5dnrp/V8_Interceptors.jpg



A 1977 Aston Martin V8 Vantage and it's flashy '04 cousin. British classics, four wheeled Spitfires .....
http://s4.postimage.org/5p437vmm4/cr_Aston_Martin_V8_Vantage_1977.jpg
http://www.easyimage.us/media/files_image/user3645/13514480fd97.jpg



A little CGI magic ...... dreamcars of airbrush and imagination designed to tempt.
http://s4.postimage.org/qyruhc4ee/cr_Ladylust.jpg
http://s4.postimage.org/gby4mzl8w/cr_Maz_Procar.jpg
http://s4.postimage.org/5p4d53plm/cr_CZR_Procar.jpg



And theres always a bike available for any lady vistor should they require something to lean against after a long night of ....
http://s4.postimage.org/y1zy6n0be/cr_tbpbk_001.jpg
http://s4.postimage.org/gbyb94z8k/cr_tbpbk_002.jpg
http://s4.postimage.org/uie5ffz38/cr_tbpbk_003.jpg
 
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Scribblings for Fun

Mini tid-bits from a started a now abandoned roleplay ... not sure if its worth finding someone to carry it on, or re-write it as a one-off story ...




Fallen Angel


“Then the Lord rained brimstone and fire on Sodom and Gomorrah . . . “

Blane snerked to himself. This part of town wasn’t far off being the drainpipe of hell, and attracted crazies and religious zealots in equal measure.

He brushed past the wild eyed, sandwich-board toting fool, making sure to brush against his arm in the process. As he slipped noiselessly through the crowed thong, the mans strident warning suddenly died off behind him, as surely as if a switch had been thrown. His angry face transformed, replaced as if touched by a rapture, and his mouth hung slack, a tiny wet line of drool, leaking from one corner.

Blane had no time to linger and admire his work as he often did, for tonight he had purpose. He was looking for someone. “A girl . . . The Girl,” he corrected himself. He rolled the thought around in his head. The girl who had seen him. Not the casual visage he presented to the throng, but she had really seen HIM.

He still shivered at the thought. She had turned across the crowded nightclub, one of his favorite, vapidly crowed, night haunts, and looked straight at him. Before he could react and blend back into the shadows, she’d stared, and seen HIM. He’d backed away, lost in an impossibly dark alcove, but her eyes had tracked him, seeking, fixing.

Later he’d been unable to sleep and had wandered through the night, lost in brooding thoughts. Eventually, as he’d sat with his feet dangling idly over the buildings edge, the first rays of dawn began to light up the eastern skyline of concrete and steel. As the bloated orange ball crept up, his thoughts coalesced. He had to find her. He had to understand how she’d done it, and more importantly, why . . .



Last night was haunting her.

If any of her roommates asked about it, she wouldn't be able to express what had happened. Not what mattered, anyway. She could literally replay the few minutes-span of time thanks to a few tricks of hers, but that didn't help her piece together things she didn't already know.

'Well, it's better than doing nothing,' Kaila thought to herself as she closed her eyes and cleared her thoughts. Inwardly, she stretched out to touch something inside of her, and the next thing she knew she was back at the nightclub, experiencing the same sensory imagery as she had right before she saw him.

Weaving through the crowd, bodies slick with sweat, nearly suffocating. Rumbling stirs in her heart, matching the music's pounding. Predator to all; a palpable mantle. Lights dance around countless gyrating hips in a sensual display. She lifts her glass to parted lips: 'Poison!" her instincts shriek. She freezes. A light, nauseating scent constricts her stomach, coiling, bittersweet--Ecstasy. Turns to find source of the offender, smile mix of pride and contempt. How dare they.

Without her consent, eyes meet his; a shadow of the crowd, wallflower maybe. Instincts confirm something only different. Not exact.

She pauses the memory there like a tape, taking in all of the details she could of this man that a dark, crowded nightclub would allow. She'd watched him slip away, but the damage was already done. Had she seen something she wasn't supposed to?



Frustration was clouding his judgment. He could feel it and he didn’t like it, not one little bit. He paused, leaning against a building, half shrouded in shadow. The cold grey brick soothed him. He let it rub up against his senses, its unyielding purpose, a comfort. He liked buildings. The older the better. Of course he knew why that was, but still, tastes were better back then. “True for both architecture, and flesh,” he mused silently. And so, for a lingering moment, he allowed his eyes to close, knowing that she would come to him in his dreams.

Darkness swirled behind his eyes, roiling folds of black and gold silk, lashed with occasional flashes of vermillion.

A snapshot. A dusky old world beauty. A hint of, modern, tomorrow, almost disdain. Complex. Very complex. Almost brooding, like himself, and hiding things. Many, many layers . . . she was . . . he strained to see . . . sitting, cross-legged on a bed. Meditating. Odd, why would she be doing that? He could see . . . an apartment, sparse, neat, but a few things, loved things. He could see out of the window. three, maybe four floors up. Brick. He looked back at her.

“Fuck!” Her eyes were open and they were looking at him.

Blane felt a deep ache as the waking dream dissolved. He leant over, a wave of nausea washing over him. He often felt cramps afterwards, but this was much worse. He’d almost felt her, inside his own head. If he’d had any doubts before, now he knew he had to find her. She was dangerous. If for nothing else than the fact she’d obviously picked up on the poison, well not quite poison, but a substance to imprint certain . . . behaviors on any in that room. Any that was, except her.

He climbed. Longing for the moon. He decided he would sit out the last of the day. Propping himself up on a ledge, overlooking the south sprawl, he suppressed his hungers, and his needs. He could for days, longer even, if absolutely required. And yes, this required it. The night would help. It was his friend, helping him, and clouding the perceptions of others. He could find the brick in the night. He closed his eyes. He was sure of it . . .




.
 
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Scribblings for Fun

My January writers challenge entry, with a few small mods as suggested by others, (thank you). I'm pondering a larger story or a series of themed short stories . . . not sure which idea will win at the moment.




The Bitter Pill


Sel looked at her self in the mirror and adjusted her mask one last time. She sighed, satisfied. She was almost as ready as she was ever going to be. Tonight was the culmination of plans. Plans within plans, and thoughts, within thoughts. Tonight, she would become something else. Something more than the sum. Tonight, she would become Selina.

Thoughts drifting, she stirred luxuriously, and her reflection . . . rippled back at her, with a languid sensuality.

She looked at the little gold box on the dresser, nestled amongst the perfumes, soft brushes and the multihued palettes of discarded makeup. It had been deliberately placed there, to appear casually absent. Amidst the chaos, she had almost hoped it would disappear overnight.

Slowly, she picked the box up, turning it over and over, in her soft hands. Her deep red nails clicked over the filigree, tapping, as if trying to illicit answers to questions as yet unspoken. It was heavy. Very heavy for something so small and delicate looking.

Knowing that if she put it off any longer, it would remain a half opened chance, a lingering regret to haunt and ache in later years, her nails popped the latch. Almost without her willing it. The room echoed with a sharp crack and an almost inaudible, hiss, like a long, drawn out sigh.

Deep red silk shimmered inside, reflecting the dimmed, moody lights of her room, and the ripples of conflict welling through her soul.

A tiny black pill sat in the shimmering fabric. She picked it out. It was heavy. The weight she had wondered about was the pill. Now freed from its burden, the box dropped, inconsequential and weightless, forgotten to the floor. It tumbled out of sight, under the dresser, to wait until needed again.

Her reflection locked eyes with her. They watched through the dream, as delicate fingers absently rubbed the black pill, slowly, over red lips. Like the tip of a lovers tongue. Their eyes fused, as the pill disappeared into her wet mouth.

-----------

The wooden floor was deeply polished. Cold like all wood, cold, except where she lay, curled up. There it was warm, hot, and alive.

Selina let her eyes open behind her mask. She was bathed in white filtering light. Just her, for outside of her vision was darkness. Almost completely dark, inky dark. She let her tongue wet her lips, it traced a searing path of awareness, which awoke her senses. An expectant hush circled the room. Echoing desire and dark needs with its cloying silence.

She felt, sensed their presence. For only she could be seen. But, they were hungry. She could feel it washing over her, like wet scent. It boiled. And it made her ache.

Her legs slowly uncoiled and she stretched. Her arms along the floor, fingers reaching for untouchable bars, her head, her back arched. Feline. The hunger in the room grew. She felt it’s . . . approval. It’s . . wetness.

She spun around sitting. Her legs splayed, her head tilted down between them, long hair falling to cover her like a shroud. Her hands gripped her ankles, red nails caressing glossy black patent leather. The lights reflective sparkle, making both flash promise.

Her head swung around, arching, rolling. Long hair sweeping with a silent swoosh. The room dripped, hunger building. She drank it and played with it. Letting it propel her forwards, poised, onto her hands and knees. He head dipped and the cool wood kissed her soft cheek. Her spine bent and her hips rose, her sequined dress riding to expose creamed flesh.

One of her hands crawled with purpose back along the floor. Red nails tapping as they inched along. It rose up her soft thigh, seeking. It was searching for heat. It paused, as if seeking approval from the room. The silence of need was deafening.

Long fingers slipped under wet gusset, dallying a second too long, before easing flimsy material backwards. Slowly wriggling it down, not completely, for that wasn’t what the hunger required. Glistening material came to rest, half down, half up, stretched between thighs trembling with barely suppressed want.

----------

She felt, as much as heard, the footfalls. Crisp leather soles. Measured steps. Controlled steps. Controlled power. She shivered and felt a hot leak threaten in the dam. Her hand, twisted, pulling black, sequined dress, swiftly up over her body, over her head, thrown to rest, scattered carelessly under the lights. Both hands stretched out now, fingers wide and open, her body arched with prostrate beckoning.

The steps stopped. Inches behind her. Her breathing slowed, time itself slowed. Even the rooms hunger held it’s collective breath.

Selina pressed her face down harder. Mashing her cheek to the unyielding wood. Absently, her tongue flicked out, pink, serpentine, and lashed lovingly at the floor polish. A long, slow, wet sigh, escaped. It caressed the room, whispering to ears of the enraptured hungry.

She felt herself slowly open. Puffy, glistening pink, proffered and split. A tiny bead of dew balanced, before slipping down the inside of her willowy, golden thigh. A gyration scraped. Turgid nipples bent in contact with the ground.

The room held it’s breath.

A whooping swoosh. A sharp, wet, slapping crack. Sels world, tucked protectively behind her closed eyes, dissolved into a bright red lighting explosion. A flash of pain. And a lingering shivering rush as her orgasm exploded.

The room groaned. A wash of escaping release. Lips found lips, hands found wet places, thrusting, teasing, gripping, plunging. But the eyes of the watching never wavered. For down on the floor, in the middle of the room the pill was unmasked. In front of salacious thoughts and obsidian eyes, Selina was . . . becoming . . .





.
 
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wanders in and in the absence of the proprietor, pours myself a large Jamesons on the rocks. tosses some money onto the backbar counter before returning back around to the customer area and taking a stool.

Nice place... my kinda disreputable. :)
 
fuckmeat said:
wanders in and in the absence of the proprietor, pours myself a large Jamesons on the rocks. tosses some money onto the backbar counter before returning back around to the customer area and taking a stool.

Nice place... my kinda disreputable. :)
Click to expand...



http://www.easyimage.us/media/files_image/user3645/13751ffb7b81.jpg

*the air cools suddenly . . . the lights behind the bar flicker then catch*

A deep, hypnotic voice caresses your ear, "Excuse me miss, your money . . . we don"t use that in here. There is always payment, of course. Everyone has to pay, eventually. Just not money . . ." He fixes you with steady, penetrating gaze. "It appears you already have a tab set up here."


.
 
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Song of the Day

http://www.easyimage.us/media/files_image/user3645/1375094fca2c.jpg

Song of the Day
ZZ Top - Legs


She's got legs, she knows how to use them
She never begs, she knows how to choose them
She only lets you wonder how to feel them
Would you get behind them if you could only find them
She's my baby, she's my baby
Yeah, it's all right

She's got hair down to her fanny
She's got a dress slit right up to her panties
Every time she's dancin' she knows what to do
Everybody wants to see, see if she can use it
She's so fine, she's all mine
Girl, you got it right

She's got legs, she knows how to use them
She never begs, she knows how to choose them
She's got a dime all of the time
Stays out at night movin' through time
Oh, I want her, said I got to have her
The girl is all right, she's all right



.
 
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peers around the corner warily, unsure if I'm trespassing or not.

Hmm, interesting place... interesting theme.

The bar appears closed, so I sneak behind it, and help myself to a Hennessy XO, and sneak out again, before I'm caught, leaving an IOU for the brandy, as the till is locked.
 
SoulWeaver said:
*the air cools suddenly . . . the lights behind the bar flicker then catch*

A deep, hypnotic voice caresses your ear, "Excuse me miss, your money . . . we don"t use that in here. There is always payment, of course. Everyone has to pay, eventually. Just not money . . ." He fixes you with steady, penetrating gaze. "It appears you already have a tab set up here."
Click to expand...

sips the whiskey and smiles, unsurprised. looks down at my outfit, the lycra hugging my pale, slim frame, dark red hair cascading down my back, my crossed legs encased in heeled boots

Well I hope I at least adhered to the dress code.
 
sallythescorpian said:
peers around the corner warily, unsure if I'm trespassing or not.

Hmm, interesting place... interesting theme.

The bar appears closed, so I sneak behind it, and help myself to a Hennessy XO, and sneak out again, before I'm caught, leaving an IOU for the brandy, as the till is locked.
Click to expand...

Ahhhhhh the ladies appear to have fine taste. Just as well as pink fluffy daiquiris are in short supply. Oddly though, the bar, as does the whole Establishment, seems to always have at least one bottle of temptation to match the perfect sins of it's patrons ......

Definitely not trespassing Sally, you’re welcome anytime. And thank you, "interesting" it certainly is. Oh by the way, Grady is always at the bar, it’s as if he never sleeps, and I’m usually around, somewhere. Maybe too... in time, other doors here will open .....
 
The Cutting Room Floor

Favourite movies. Hell why not. Are they in order, no, well sort of. Trying to find a top 5 or ten for the movie appreciation thread is almost impossible. Should I add comments or justifications? As you can see I don't watch black and white or arty french subtitles. So maybe I will, maybe not, we shall see. Just like art, I'm not sure I believe that movies can only be truly justified to anyone except oneself. You all know what opinions are like right?


The Shining
Apocalypse Now
Blade Runner
New Hope
Fifth Element
Aliens
Predator2
Mad Max
Terminator 2
Evil Dead Army of Darkness
The Matrix
Blade
In the Mouth of Madness
Event Horizon
Bad Santa
Silent Hill
Virus
Riddick
Resident Evil
Midnight Meat Train
Immortal
The Ring (The Hideo Nakata version)
The Grudge
Titanic
Team America
Appleseed
Final Fantasy
Desperado
Reservoir Dogs
Dawn to Dusk
Saw
Hostel
 
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Ooo this place is nice.. It's so dark and wonderful..

Is the bar still closed? I'm quite fond of white russians...
 
Hikari said:
Ooo this place is nice.. It's so dark and wonderful..

Is the bar still closed? I'm quite fond of white russians...
Click to expand...

Grady is always behind the bar ... and you Hikari-san ... can have anything you desire .....
 
SoulWeaver said:
*she turns to find her drink, a sumptuous blend of ice, Kahlua and Vodka sitting in front of her ..... *
Click to expand...

*sips it with a straw and grins*

Your bartender is divine. Now what other sorts of trouble can we get up to in this place?

*continues to sip the drink slowly*

This is really good..
 
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